42
Adam Morgan
I’m pacing the living room back and forth, grabbing at my hair, scanning for objects that I could destroy to vent my anger. How could I not have known? How could I not have seen this sooner?
“Do you know who wrote it?” Rebecca asks for the tenth time.
“I have a pretty good fucking idea.” I want to punch something just to get some relief.
“Okay, well then who is it? We just found a big clue here. This is good news!” Rebecca is trying to calm me down, but it’s no use. I’m seeing red. A lying bitch is messing with my life. She’s trying to ruin me. She threatened me. Jesus Christ. She probably killed Kelly. For all I know, she’s manipulating the fucking evidence as we speak. Rebecca’s face pleads with me, eyes wide open, straining to know the answer.
“It’s Sarah’s assistant, Anne,” I finally say.
“Shit…” Rebecca looks at both notes. She returns her gaze to me. “And you’re sure?”
“Look at the writing. Of course I’m fucking sure.” I shove both notes in her face, a few inches from her nose.
She swats them away. “Easy. I’m on your side remember.”
I take a deep breath and a step back from her.
Rebecca looks me up and down. “She sent the threat. But if she killed Kelly, what would her motive be?”
“How the fuck should I know? I’m not a murderer. Remember?” I throw my hands up.
“Well… think,” Rebecca presses. “This isn’t the time to fly off the handle, this is the time to think.”
I rub my head, willing the answer to come to me. “She’s obsessed with Sarah, and she’s never really liked me. Maybe she wanted her all to herself.”
“If she’s obsessed with Sarah, perhaps she’d do anything for Sarah. Like kill her cheating husband’s mistress?” Rebecca raises an eyebrow.
“Don’t you dare. Sarah would never fucking do that.” I point at her and narrow my eyes. I could literally hurt Rebecca now. I’m glaring at her as I pace back and forth. I can see the uneasiness in her face. How easy would it be to lunge across the room and take her to the ground? Wrap my hands around her throat, crush her windpipe with my thumbs as I watch her eyes fill up with blood and the life slowly leave her. I could be in control of something again, finally. I could validate the fear that is on her face.
Her voice is trembling when she begins to talk. “Listen, Adam. I didn’t mean it that way. I just have to ask the hard questions sometimes, especially if I’m going to be of any help to you.”
I don’t return the smile, but I do stop scowling at her. She’s not the enemy, I remind myself. She’s just trying to help. She’s just trying to understand the situation. But I don’t have time for her to understand. I don’t have time to sit here. I need to leave. I need to confront Anne. I need her to confess what she did. I need this all to end.
“So, what now?” I try to divert myself from doing anything rash. Focus on Rebecca. Listen to her. Stay here with her. This will all get sorted out. She’s helped me so much already. I stop pacing, and I stand there in the middle of my living room frozen in time. Rebecca is no longer tense, but she is concerned. She glances at me, then at her bag on the table and the set of keys next to it. I follow her gaze. Is she trying to leave? Does she think I’d do something to her?
“I can take all this stuff to the police station, and I’m sure they would have to reopen the investigation.” Her eyes are full of hope.
I’m not sure whether that hope is for her or for me. “But the case is closed,” I say.
“Yes, but you haven’t been convicted. The police have a responsibility to look into all suspects of the case.”
“But what if they don’t? What if they refuse? What if it’s too little too late?”
“Your lawyer can still use it in the case. It definitely could work for creating reasonable doubt amongst the jury,” she explains.
My lawyer. You mean my wife? Does she know Anne’s the one that sent the note? Is she involved? I start pacing again—harder and faster. She can’t know, can she? Fuck. I can’t do this. As I walk, my eyes keep catching the set of keys like a small glimmer of hope, and when it happens, it’s like no thought goes into it. I just do it. I don’t look back. I grab the keys and run out of the house, jumping into Rebecca’s Chevy Cruze.
Rebecca chases after me. “Adam, what the hell are you doing? You’re on house arrest. You can’t leave. Wait!”
I close the door defiantly and put the car in drive. I slam my foot on the gas pedal, the tires spin out, kicking up dirt and leaves—and then I’m pulling away from the house. My ankle bracelet begins to buzz and flash.
43
Sarah Morgan
I’m sitting in one of the many conference rooms within Williamson & Morgan. Anne scheduled a meeting with D.A. Josh Peters and Matthew has joined me. A stack of boxes covers part of the table—my discovery or, really, lack thereof. It’s there to throw the prosecution off and hopefully, get them to uncover things I was unable to thanks to the Prince William County Sheriff’s Department no longer cooperating. Everything in those boxes has been carefully curated by Matthew, Anne, and me today to get D.A. Peters to do our dirty work. He should be here any minute. This meeting is intended to throw him off. I know he thinks this case is a slam dunk—and it is, but I need him to believe there’s some possibility of the prosecution losing. I need him to think I have something up my sleeve and that he needs to find out what that is.
Matthew takes a seat at the head of the conference table. “Am I playing bad cop?” He gives a small smirk.
“Always.”
“And are you sure you want to be toying with the prosecution right now?” He raises an eyebrow.
“Are you questioning my strategy again, Matthew?”
“Just checking your judgment.”
There’s a knock on the door. Anne opens it, carrying in a tray full of snacks, soda, and water. “Right this way,” she says to D.A. Peters who is following behind her.
“Who’s this?” He gestures to Matthew. “Discovery is only for council.”
“This is Matthew. He is assisting with this case.”
Matthew stands and holds out his hand. “I’m doing more than assisting.”
“Does he even have a law degree?” D.A. Peters asks me as if Matthew isn’t in the room.
“Yes, he and I went to Yale together.”
“Which is why I’m a lobbyist now, not some D.A. that went to George Washington night school.” Matthew smirks and takes his seat.
D.A. Peters doesn’t respond to Matthew’s quip. He sits down and directs his attention to me.
“Anyway, thanks for coming down here on such short notice,” I say.
He nods. “Of course. What is it you wanted to discuss? Might I remind you, the plea bargain is off the table.”
Anne gently closes the door behind her as she leaves.
“We wouldn’t take the plea bargain even if it were on the table.” Matthew gives him a stern look.